get out alive. | closed
It wasnât the first time he had been threatened before, and he knew it wouldnât be the last time either. But this time it was different. Twix wasnât just being threatened, he was being blackmailed. This was why he didnât have many friends. This was the reason why he built up a wall and kept people at a distance. Twix couldnât afford to keep people in his life. He couldnât afford to keep a lover, and he knew it. This is what made him the perfect assassin. Unbegrudgingly, he accepted his fate. That isnât to say he wasnât bitter about it. Twix was probably one of the single most depressed and cynical individuals you would ever come across. As his dark brown eyes scanned the note he had received at his penthouse suite door, his hands began to tremble. Half-way through reading the note he dropped it to the ground as if it was burning through his hands and walked to his porch, lighting up a cigarette. No. This wasnât happening. It simply was not happening. He took several long drags in attempt to calm himself before returning to the kitchen chair he had abandoned only moments early and picked up the letter once more and continued where he had left off. âIf you want to see her get out alive then youâll do as I say.â Attached was a picture of a red headed young girl who was tied to a chair, bloody marks on her arms and legs. She was wearing a blindfold and gag, but even without seeing her eyes in the picture, Twix just knew it was her. @lonestar-muses
